


Cloisterfuck

by Rìgh_Marbh (Righ_Marbh)



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25470406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Righ_Marbh/pseuds/R%C3%ACgh_Marbh
Summary: For tlkfanficfest prompt 20: "Finan/Uhtred, stuck in a confessional box. Can be as naughty as you like. Bonus for Aelswith coming to pray whilst they’re stuck."It's not particularly naughty but I saw this prompt and absolutely corpsed myself laughing at the thought of it.
Relationships: Finan/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39
Collections: The Last Kingdom Fanfic Fest





	Cloisterfuck

**Author's Note:**

> Finally cross-posting my TLKFFF posts from Tumblr whilst I procrastinate over editing the next round of fills! Also apologies for the mildly OOC rant about Early Medieval Church practices I just...cannot...stop...myself...sometimes.

They’d been dismissed hours ago. Dismissed, in fact, on pain of punishment if they didn’t piss off immediately and yet for some reason Uhtred was still pacing the floor of the royal chapel. It was nearly midsummer and the light filtering through the high windows left fractured patterns on the stone floor. Finan had nearly counted all of the little sunlit diamonds by the time Uhtred finally spoke.

“We can’t leave. Not until I know that Aethelflaed is well.”

“It was barely a scratch. She’ll be fine. Which is more than we’ll be able to say for ourselves if we stay here much longer.”

They’d come alone, just the two of them, after news of Aethelflaed’s injury had reached Coccham and the king, not entirely well disposed to the pair of them on a good day, had declared them a nuisance he didn’t have the time or energy to deal with and sent them on their way. Uhtred had borne the dismissal better than Finan had expected - squaring his shoulders and leaving with only a cursory argument - until he had swung them into the deserted chapel and taken to pacing the room.

“It was her turd of a husband’s doing and...”

“And we can skin the runt later...” Finan sighed and pushed himself away from the wall, crossing to where Uhtred was leaning heavily against the altar and resting a hand on his shoulder. Beneath the rough spun tunic, Uhtred was tense. “...we need to leave.”

Uhtred shifted, turning so the he was leaning against the altar with his arms folded across his chest. He was staring at a spot on the wall somewhere behind Finan with a crease in his brow. This thing with Aethelflaed, whatever it was destined to be, was getting out of hand.

“I’m not saying your heart’s not in the right place but you’ll do nobody any favours by pissing off Alfred... _again_.”

The flicker of a smirk lifted the corner of Uhtred’s mouth.

“I don-”

Uhtred’s ability to go from a reclining start to a full sprint in the blink of an eye hadn’t caught Finan off guard in a long time but the sudden sharp tug at his collar yanked him off his feet and sent him stumbling backwards into the shadows until his back collided with Uhtred’s chest.

“What the hell was tha-“

_“Shhh.”_

Uhtred nodded urgently towards the chapel doors where the Lady Aelswith stood. Her back was to them, for now at least, as she spoke with someone who was hidden by the pillar of the...confessional? Uhtred had dragged him into the damned confessional booth. Finan didn’t need the Sight to know where this was going.

“Uhtred we are trapped in here and if she turns around...”

Aelswith’s soft laugh carried over on the breeze. The day was warm enough without being jammed into a confessional booth but here they were and Uhtred was already reaching past him to pull the door over to hide them. There was barely enough room for a half-starved priest, never mind two warriors, in the stuffy little box and Uhtred was all elbows and hot breath on the back of Finan’s neck.

“If we try to leave now she’ll see us.”

“If we’d left when we were meant to instead of skulking...”

“Skulking around looking for trouble, I know, _I know_.” The end of his sentence came out as a deep sigh as he dropped his forehead onto Finan’s shoulder. “But...I swore I would-“

“Swear any more oaths and you’re going to get us all killed.”

Finan leaned forwards, trying to make out who it was that Aelswith was speaking with and to put a breath of distance between the two of them before they both suffocated. Uhtred had released his grip on his collar but his hand still rested high on Finan’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing absent minded circles into his neck.

“And if you don’t stop _that_ I’ll kill you myself.”

Despite the breathy whispers they were reduced to, the smirk was clear in Uhtred’s voice.

“You don’t usually complain.”

Finan aimed a kick backward and his heel met Uhtred’s shin drawing out a satisfying hiss of pain.

“Just shut up and let me see what she’s doing.”

Through the simply carved wood of the confessional door, which let the dappled afternoon light filter through from the high windows, he could just make out Aelswith moving further into the chapel. At her side, Father Pyrlig looked around the empty room with a quizzical look before his eyes settled on the confessional.

Finan shrunk back into the shadows, half tripping on Uhtred who dropped onto the small bench with a quiet thud and a muttered curse.

Pyrlig smirked a very uncomfortable smirk before muttering something to Aelswith and departing with a short bow.

_Fuck._

“What is she doing?”

“Probably thinking of how she’d like our entrails hung up.”

“Let me see.”

“There’s no space, if you just...”

“It’s fine, just move back...”

“We don’t _fit_ in here, I can’t...”

Half-braced against the wall, Uhtred peered through the door as Finan found himself pressed further back into the booth.

“You really don’t want to know where your knife is right now.”

“Shh. She’s coming this way.”

“Then get your _knife_ out of my _co-_ “

The second door to the confessional creaked open and Finan held his breath as Aelswith stepped inside. Uhtred shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Finan bit down on the inside of his cheek as the pointed end of Uhtred’s scabbard grazed perilously close to soft flesh and wondered if Aelswith would reward him for just throttling Uhtred right there.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have...” There was a soft beat of silence, as though the word itself was distasteful. “...sinned.”

Uhtred met his eye and, in an instant, a silent conversation passed between them.

The brief flash of panic in Uhtred’s eyes said ‘ _say something_ ’ and Finan could only give a constricted shrug of ‘ _like what!?_ ’

A brief glance to the side where Aelswith was muttering about how long it had been - a scant few days and Finan was surprised it was anything more than a few hours the way the woman went on sometimes - since her last confession said, very simply _‘I don’t know but if I open my mouth now we’re both dead.’_

He could do this. Sure he could. It had only been...well no, now he thought about it, late night, half-drunk talks with Hild or Osferth most likely didn’t count as confession at all which meant it had been a lot longer than he’d realised since he’d done this. Not to mention the fact that the English church had unceremoniously adopted the habit of private confession from the Irish church and he’d not the faintest clue how differently they did it because _Christ_ they couldn’t leave anything that worked well enough alone.

Trying to convey all of that to the pig-headed _arse_ who’d gotten them into this mess with just a look was proving to be one language barrier too far.

So, instead, Finan mustered the best West Saxon accent he could, sent a desperate prayer to any passing God that could hear him, assuming that his own had well and truly forsaken him and tried to ignore the way Uhtred’s hands were fisted in his shirt to try and keep them both steady.

“My child...” Uhtred barely suppressed a choked laugh and Finan thumped him as quietly as he could. “...you may, uh...”

He got no further as a quiet half-coughed _hic_ sounded from beside him.

He glanced at Uhtred. Then at the shadowy figure of Aelswith through the wooden grille of the box. Then back at Uhtred who, at the very least, had the decency to looked mortified.

_Hic_.

Oh _no_.

“Is everything alright, Father Eadig?”

Another silent but frantic conversation. That ended in Uhtred holding his breath and Finan standing with his hand clamped over the bastard’s mouth which would have been fine were it not for the blood pounding in Finan’s ears and the dark look in Uhtred’s eyes.

Jesus suffering fuck.

“I am just, uh, fine. I’m fine...Lady...you can...”

_Hic_.

“Shall I fetch you some water?”

_Hic_.

There was only one thing for it. They were going to be strung up anyway at this rate. It couldn’t hurt and, frankly, if they were going to die then he didn’t intend for them to die horny and hiccuping.

The whole confessional creaked as Aelswith stood and reached for the door.

The point was that it was always Uhtred who initiated this sort of thing. The point was to shock him enough to put and end to this. The point...somewhat got lost as Finan grabbed Uhtred by the collar and kissed him hard and the old familiar burn in the pit of his stomach was ignited again.

There was no poetry in it but _christ_ it was nice.

He was faintly aware of Aelswith’s footsteps outside the door. That she was likely reaching for the handle. That the odds of her finally getting her wish of seeing them swinging from a tree branch were stacked in her favour.

But Uhtred hiccuped into the kiss and Finan had to fight to choke down a faintly hysterical laugh which just give the bastard the opportunity to push back and between that and his wandering hands Finan was hard pressed to give a shit about their impending doom.

“My Lady?”

Beocca’s voice rang out and Finan could have sworn he heard angels sing. Uhtred broke the kiss, that stupid smirk on his face, and Finan could only let himself fall back against the wall and slide down until he was folded on the floor of the booth as his knees gave way beneath him.

“Father Eadig seems to be having some trouble I was just...”

He could see Aelswith through the door now, though the light didn’t penetrate deep enough for her to make them out.

“The king has asked for your advice on a matter, I can see to Father Eadig.”

“If you are certain?”

“Quite certain, Lady.” When Aelswith seemed to hesitate, he pressed her further. “The king was quite insistent.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Father.”

There was a heartbeat of silence before Beocca pulled open the door and found them breathless and tangled in the cramped little space.

“I’ve known children to be less trouble than you two.”

Finan levered himself up using Uhtred’s knee and sidled out past Beocca carefully. Uhtred remained slouched on the little bench, looking for all the world as though it had been part of his plan.

Until he hiccuped.


End file.
